"What announcement?"

  Lucy gives me a look that's part disbelief, part exasperation. "It was all over the news last night. Fox 29 at least. They've set up a reward system under their 'Safer Streets Initiative.' Five hundred dollars for reporting 'dangerous youth activities' - but the fine print makes it clear they're targeting kids with powers."

  "You're kidding me." But I can tell from her expression that she's not. "How is that even legal?"

  "They're calling it a 'community partnership for neighborhood stability.' The official language talks about 'addressing disruptive group behaviors' and 'identifying at-risk youth engaged in dangerous activities.' But the examples they gave were all thinly-veiled references to powers - 'unusual noises,' 'unexplained property damage,' 'individuals moving at high speeds.' That's how they caught Bubble - someone in her building reported seeing her climb out her window in costume, and the cops found her like thirty minutes later. Crazy that they can't put that muster to use for the rest of the city."

  I briefly wonder how I missed this. Probably because it was on Fox 29, and Dad refers to that channel as "a pig trough filled with putzes" and banned it from our TV years ago. Plus, between homework and training and not-dying, I haven't exactly been keeping up with every single channel. Yet another failure of the modern vigilante lifestyle - note to self, maybe see if Tasha is willing to tolerate that sort of stuff.

  My hands are clenching into fists without my permission, nails digging into my palms. "So now they're not just trying to stop us, they're turning our neighborhoods against us."

  "Pretty much," Lucy agrees, her voice grim. "The whole announcement had footage of 'urban disorder' playing in the background - mostly shots of North Philly after dark, but then like... you know those ATV races down Broad? Got a good helicopter shot of one of them hitting a parked car. Compass is already talking about going underground, moving operations completely off the grid. Sandman thinks we should just stand down for a few weeks, let things cool off."

  "And you?"

  She hesitates, looking at me with an intensity that makes me want to squirm. "I think we need to be smarter than them. Find ways to operate that don't trigger their radar. And maybe... coordinate better."

  "Coordinate?" I echo, not sure what she's getting at.

  "Between teams," she clarifies. "Share intelligence, warn each other about hot spots, create some redundancy in case one of us gets compromised. The Titans, you guys, maybe even reach out to some of the independents."

  The thought of coordinating with other teams makes my brain hurt in complicated ways. On one hand, it makes tactical sense. On the other hand, more people means more variables, more potential security risks, more chances for things to go sideways. Regardless of how much Jordan and the others insist that I'm the one leading the Auditors, it still feels... flimsy. I was never exactly a team player back during the soccer days, and it's not like that has gotten much better. I think. Has it?

  "I don't know," I say slowly. "We've been keeping a pretty low profile."

  Lucy actually snorts at that. "Low profile? Sam, you blew up a warehouse like a week ago."

  "That wasn't us," I protest weakly. "That was Soot, and also that was two months ago. How busy have you been?"

  She blinks at me a couple of times. I can hear her next line in her head - two months? But she doesn't say it.

  "Whatever. The point is, they're escalating, which means we need to adapt. And speaking of adapting..." She glances toward the Music Hall, where my team is pretending not to watch through the windows. "You guys seem to be handling the Jordan situation okay."

  The mention of Jordan sends a little pang through my chest. "Yeah, well. MIT waits for no vigilante. And we've got a good team. Even if some of them refuse to learn how to throw a proper punch." I say the last part loud enough that I'm pretty sure Tasha can hear me through the open window.

  Lucy smiles, but it fades quickly. "Listen, I've been thinking. With this reward system in place, people like Patriot and his pals are going to be even more aggressive. We might need to reach out to some unexpected allies."

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "Like who?" I ask, though I have a sinking feeling I already know where this is going.

  "Like Pattinson's Pals."

  The name sends a little ripple of tension up my spine. Pattinson's Pals - the vigilante group that Patriot used to lead before he sold out and joined Argus Corps. Egalitarian's permanent resting bitch face manifests in a little corner of my mind's eye like a speech bubble.

  "Are you serious?" I ask, even though I can tell she absolutely is. "Those guys are halfway to being fascists."

  "They're independent," Lucy counters. "And they're not big fans of Patriot right now, considering he abandoned them for a government paycheck. Plus, they've got experience dealing with community patrols. They've been running their own for years. Haven't you seen Parabellum running around here every so often?"

  Wait, she's part of the Pals? I thought she was just some random paramilitary. I mean. I remember her - that lady in body armor slumming around with Egalitarian, but I thought... You know what? I should've seen that coming. That's on me.

  "I don't know," I say again, more out of stubborn habit than genuine resistance at this point. "Who would we even talk to over there? Is Bulldozer still running things now?"

  Lucy nods. "You met him during the zoo thing, right? When you were rallying the troops?"

  I did, though 'met' is a generous term for 'briefly exchanged information about a potential Kingdom operation.' Still, he'd shown up when it counted - I heard after the fact - which is more than I can say for a lot of people.

  "Maybe," I concede, which is as close to agreement as I'm likely to get right now. "I'll think about it."

  "That's all I'm asking," Lucy says, and some of the tension leaves her shoulders. "Just... be careful out there, okay? Bubble was lucky - first offense, decent lawyer, cooperative parents. The next kid might not be."

  Yeah, I get it, Lucy. The next kid could be me. Or Maggie. Or any of the dozens of underage heroes still trying to help despite Richardson's best efforts to criminalize us.

  "Yeah," I say, the weight of it settling in my chest. "We'll be careful."

  Lucy reaches out and squeezes my shoulder briefly. "Good. And keep up the boxing lessons. Your team needs it."

  "Tell me about it," I sigh. "At this rate, they might actually be able to throw a proper punch by Hannukkah."

  "Progress is progress," she says, already stepping back. "I should get going. Got a meeting with Compass about some Jump activity on the east side."

  "Let us know if you need backup," I offer automatically.

  "Will do. Take care of that throat."

  I watch her walk away, her posture shifting from 'fellow hero having a conversation' back to 'normal person going about their day' with practiced ease.

  Once she's out of sight, I turn back toward the Music Hall, where my team is now openly watching through the windows. Maggie actually has her face pressed against the glass like a kid outside a candy store.

  Patriot putting bounties on underage heroes. Bubble getting caught. The suggestion of reaching out to Pattinson's Pals. I need to talk to the team.

  Then, I need to make a trip to South Philly.

  The subway to South Philly feels longer than usual. Maybe it's because I'm hyperaware of every glance, every person who might be looking at me a little too long, wondering if I'm one of those underage vigilantes they could get five hundred bucks for reporting. The paranoia is new, but I guess that's the point of Patriot's stupid bounty system - make us too scared to operate.

  I'm in civilian clothes, obviously. Just Sam Small, normal teenager taking the subway on a Saturday afternoon. Nothing suspicious about that. I've got my backpack with me, but it only has normal stuff inside - a change of clothes, some homework I'm definitely not going to do, and absolutely nothing that would identify me as Bloodhound. Not that anyone would look twice at me anyway. Just another Jewish girl on public transportation. Nothing to see here.

  The team wasn't thrilled about me going alone. Maggie actually suggested we all go in "stealth formation," which is apparently what she calls it when we split up but stay within earshot of each other. I vetoed that immediately. One teenager in South Philly might not attract attention. Four teenagers clearly moving as a unit? Suspicious as hell.

  Besides, Bulldozer - Sean - knows me. Sort of. We had that whole moment during the zoo situation, the brief solidarity of fighting Kingdom together. If I show up with my whole crew, it might look like I'm trying to intimidate him or something. This needs to be casual. Just a conversation between two team leaders about a mutual problem.

  God, that sounds ridiculous even in my head. I'm not a "team leader." I'm a sixteen-year-old with shark teeth who somehow convinced a few friends to join her extremely questionable hobby.

  The subway lurches to a stop, and I check the station name. Not mine yet. Two more to go.

  I wonder what Dad would think if he knew what I was doing right now. Reaching out to Pattinson's Pals, of all people. The group he's described as "what happens when you give power to people whose moral compass was calibrated by action movies and talk radio." He's not entirely wrong. But desperate times, desperate measures, etc.

  The woman sitting across from me is staring at her phone, scrolling through what looks like a news site. I wonder if she's seen the announcement about the bounty. If she's thinking about how easy it would be to make five hundred bucks if she happened to spot a kid with powers.

  This is what Patriot wants. All of us looking over our shoulders, suspicious of our neighbors. It's a dick move, even for him.

  The subway starts moving again, and I try to focus on what I'm actually going to say to Sean when I find him. "Hey, remember when you fought a bunch of mooks while Captain Plasma beat up a T-Rex in the background? Good times. Sounds like your old boss is becoming more of a fascist than ever, wanna help me do something about it?"

  Yeah, this is going to go great.